Chương 7
She raised her hands.
“What?”
“You didn’t even pretend to be neutral.”
“No.”
She placed her phone down.
“I love you too much to pretend.”
That was Elena.
She never knew how to make things softer.
But she always made them honest.
I sat beside her.
“Someone sent me another message.”
Her expression changed.
“What kind of message?”
I showed her.
She read it twice.
“Rachel’s apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Marcus paid for it?”
“I don’t know.”
Elena leaned back.
“Valeria.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“You have spent the last two days learning that the person you trusted most was lying to you.”
She tapped the phone lightly.
“Your brain is going to want every answer immediately because answers feel like control.”
I looked down.
“And if I find them?”
“You’ll have facts.”
She paused.
“But facts don’t always make things hurt less.”
I hated that she was right.
That evening, I opened the family account information.
Not because I wanted to investigate my husband like a stranger.
Because I needed to know what was real.
Our finances had always been something Marcus handled.
That was another thing I had never questioned.
He worked in finance.
He understood investments.
He told me he enjoyed managing things.
I believed him.
Trust was built from thousands of tiny decisions.
And apparently, it could be destroyed by thousands of tiny lies.
I logged into the shared accounts.
At first, everything looked normal.
Mortgage payments.
Utilities.
Groceries.
Medical bills.
Then I saw something.
A transfer.
Not from our checking account.
From a business account connected to one of Marcus’s companies.
The amount was large.
The description was vague.
“Consulting services.”
I clicked it.
The transaction history opened.
There were several payments.
Different dates.
Different amounts.
Different descriptions.
But all connected to the same company.
I searched the name.
A small property management company.
My stomach tightened.
I took a screenshot.
Then another.
I did not know what I was looking at yet.
That was the frightening part.
I was no longer discovering facts.
I was discovering pieces.
And pieces could become anything.
The next morning, I called Marcus.
He answered after the fourth ring.
“Valeria.”
His voice sounded cautious.
“I need to ask you something.”
A pause.
“Okay.”
“Who paid for Rachel’s apartment?”
Silence.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Silence.
I closed my eyes.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Marcus exhaled.
“Who told you?”
“That’s your answer?”
“Valeria.”
“No.”
I stood up.
“I am done asking questions and watching you decide which ones deserve answers.”
He was quiet.
Finally, he said, “I helped her.”
The simplicity of the sentence almost made it worse.
“You helped her.”
“She needed somewhere to stay.”
“So you paid for an apartment.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
Another pause.
“Eight months.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
Eight months.
While I was pregnant.
While I was buying baby clothes.
While I was choosing names.
“You told me you were working late because of client problems.”
“I was.”
“And you were paying for her apartment.”
“Yes.”
“Marcus.”
My voice broke.
“Do you hear yourself?”
“I know how it sounds.”
“No.”
I looked out the kitchen window.
“You don’t.”
“Valeria, it wasn’t supposed to become this.”
That sentence stopped me.
“What does that mean?”
He did not answer.
“Marcus.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
My stomach turned.
“Handle what?”
A long silence followed.
Then he said something I was not prepared for.
“I thought I could help her and still keep my family.”
The room became completely still.
“Help her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I felt responsible.”
The answer was so unexpected that I almost laughed.
“Responsible?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you feel responsible for another woman?”
He said nothing.
And suddenly I remembered Rachel’s words.
Again.
The way she said it.
“I’m not going through this alone again.”
My grip loosened.
“Was she pregnant before?”
Marcus did not respond.
That was enough.
“Marcus.”
His breathing changed.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before.”
“Before what?”
Before the affair.
Before the divorce papers.
Before everything.
“Before our babies were born?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
“Before that.”
I sat down.
“When?”
“Nine months ago.”
The exact month.
The exact time.
The clinic.
The apartment.
The beginning.
“What happened?”
Marcus’s voice became quieter.
“Rachel and I knew each other through work.”
“You said seven months.”
“I was wrong.”
“No.”
I shook my head even though he could not see me.
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was ashamed.”
I closed my eyes.
Shame.
Everyone loved using that word after they got caught.
Shame was often just regret with better packaging.
“What happened nine months ago?”
He did not answer.
“Marcus.”
“She was pregnant.”
My heart dropped.
“And?”
“She lost the baby.”
I looked at the kitchen table.
At the place where we had eaten breakfast every morning.
At the chair where Marcus sat and talked about our future.
“I don’t understand.”
“I felt guilty.”
“So you started an affair?”
“No.”
The response was immediate.
“I mean, no, not because of that.”
“But you were already involved.”
He went quiet.
“I don’t know what I was doing.”
That was the first honest thing he had said.
Not an excuse.
Not a defense.
Just confusion.
I hated that it sounded human.
Because part of me wanted him to be easy to hate.
It would have made leaving easier.
“What happened after she lost the baby?”
“I helped her.”
“Financially.”
“Yes.”
“And emotionally.”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
I felt something painful settle inside me.
Not jealousy.
Something worse.
Betrayal.
Because there had been a version of Marcus that I never got to see.
A version of him spending time comforting another woman while I was home believing he was simply tired.
“I was going through IVF,” I whispered.
He did not speak.
“I was terrified my body was failing me.”
“Valeria…”
“And you were taking care of someone else’s grief.”
His voice cracked.
“I know.”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“You know now.”
May you like
The call stayed silent.
Then Marcus said something that changed everything.
